A Fantasy
by stripeydani
Summary: Waking up in the 21st Century means Steve has to accept the truth that Bucky isn't coming back. Then he does. Movieverse fic.
1. Chapter 1

I posted this on AO3 recently, but thought I'd post it here too. My first proper Avengers fic.

Eventual Tony/Steve/Bucky.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Bucky had fallen, Steve had fantasised for hours about seeing him again. It would have all been a mistaken; Bucky would have been caught by something, a bizarre twist of fate that would keep him alive, maybe he'd be a little banged up but he'd be alive. Then he'd brush himself off and make his way to an Allied camp. Come and find him.

He'd done it before hadn't he? Gone straight into that Hydra base, found him right there. Saved him for the first time.

_"You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"  
"Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him."_

He'd follow, just like he said. He'd come and find him, and Steve wouldn't be able to keep the emotions in check. He'd tear up, the way he'd always done too easily. Bucky used to make fun of him at the movies for that. But he wouldn't make fun of him now. He'd just smile. Make a joke.

Then Steve would spill out those feelings he'd kept under lock and key for so long. But it would be okay because Bucky was alive and that was all that mattered. He was alive and they were together again.

It didn't happen. Bucky didn't come back. And then there was Hydra and Johann Schmidt and bombs and that was it. Steve was heading the same way. Ice and everything.

_"Peggy, this is my choice."_

Even as that plane went down, as Steve said his goodbyes to Peggy, as the water got closer, it was still that fantasy with Bucky that played over and over. They'd laugh, Steve would cry because that's what Steve did, but they'd mostly laugh.

Steve's very last thought before everything went dark was what would happen if Bucky came back and Steve wasn't there?

And that was it.

Steve doesn't know if he dreamed in the ice. He can't remember it. He doubts it, but he knows that if he did it would still be that same scene. Over and over again like a film stuck on a loop.

When he wakes up, his first thought is Bucky. Just one fleeting replay of everything. Then things become more complicated. He discovers the year, and it hurts because he knows that even if his scenario had become a reality, he would have missed it. Bucky would still be gone.

_"You've been asleep Cap. For almost seventy years."_

After that, he doesn't know what else to do but stay in the dingy gym this SHIELD have provided him. Too lost in the past to even look at the present.

That is, until Director Fury shows up again.

_"You with the mission sir?"  
"I am."_

What choice does Steve have but to say yes?

It all gets even more confusing after that. Tesseracts and men who were practically Gods, controlling lightning and conjuring illusions and controlling minds. It made failed super soldiers with rubber faces seem uninteresting in comparison.

And of course, there was Tony Stark.

_"Always a way out... You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."  
"A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!"_

Abrasive, rude, utterly infuriating. Steve couldn't stand Howard's son at first. The man was nothing but a reminder of how the world had changed so drastically, and paired with Steve's own short fuse, they clashed. A lot. At night, Steve would choke down resentments about Tony to think about Bucky instead, about the friends he'd lost. He didn't get a lot of sleep.

Loki was defeated, the portal closed, and only then did things begin to change.

Steve saw a new side to Tony that day, he'd seen a hero in him, and it meant something. He didn't know what. But there was warmth there that hadn't been present before. Tony was intelligent, witty, smooth-talking and good looking, but underneath it all there was also a good man. That meant something to Steve.

When Thor returned to Asgard with Loki, the Avengers went their separate ways. Tony offered Steve somewhere to live, a home, but Steve turned it down. He chose instead to take the motorbike Bruce had been given, taking some time. The offer had sparked a familiar warmth in the pit of Steve's stomach, the smile when Tony had shook his hand had made him mirror the expression.

He'd promised to come back when he was done, Tony had made him promise. With a look he'd seen before, somewhere else. In a fantasy.

He definitely needed to be alone.

The night after he left, lying in a motel bed, he thought about Bucky again. He played his fantasy over and over until his head and his heart hurt. It was even more of a foolish dream now. It was impossible. He would never see Bucky again.

He didn't sob like he'd expected to. He didn't even make a sound asides his own breathing. Just tears. It occurred to him that he had never mourned. Not really. A night in a bombed out bar trying desperately to get drunk. Alone, coming up with the fantasy he now clung to.

But it was just that wasn't it? A fantasy. And one he'd have to let go if he had any hope of surviving in this new world.

Steve fell asleep with wet eyes, but when he woke, things were clearer than they had been for weeks in his own grasp of time. Clearer than they had been for over seventy years in the reality of it. He went back to New York that morning.

"Good to see you back Cap." Tony had smiled.

"Good to be back." Steve had replied, that warmth returning again.

That night he didn't think about Bucky.

He had to let the fantasy go.


	2. Chapter 2

And chapter 2 straight off the bat!

I'll try and get 3 done ASAP... there will be sex. I promise!

Feel free to comment, I do very much appreciate it :)

Enjoy!

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"For Christ's sake Steve..."

Tony is pissed off. Steve can tell that much. He's torn between being apologetic and getting pissed off back. After all, this isn't his fault. Not really.

Steve folds his arms defensively across his chest like a barrier, having gone from mere inches from Tony, to being the other side of the room from him. He can see why Tony would be pissed, a reaction like that...

"Tony..."

"No Steve, I don't get it." Tony's shaking his head and leaning against the kitchen counter behind him, arms folded in a mirror of Steve's own stance. Both guarded, on the defensive. That never ended well.

"I just..." Steve can only shake his head and look out of the window. He can't put anything into words lately. Whenever he's around Tony words just stumble and come out wrong.

"Just what? Because I really need some explaining to here Steven. I may be a genius, but can't read minds." He looks hurt. That's the worst thing. Steve's never seen Tony look hurt, he's seen him angry, sarcastic, even defeated and depressed. But never hurt like this.

It makes Steve's stomach clench.

"I can't... it's hard to explain." It's such a pathetic answer that Steve cringes as soon as he says it.

"Hard to explain?" Tony scoffs, and for a moment Steve thinks he's going to walk out. "I just want to know why we've been doing this little dance around each other for the last few weeks if you're going to bottle out at the grand climax..." He pauses a moment, a flicker of his usual humour even while he's pissed off. "Climax was a bad word to use."

Steve shifts uncomfortably. He's Steve Rogers, he doesn't have conversations like this. He's never had a girlfriend, never been to a dance. His first kiss was with a blonde woman he didn't even know, the second with a woman he'd died for. Technically.

But Tony Stark wasn't a woman. Tony Stark was a man. Very much a man. The same kind of man Bucky had been. All sarcasm and wit, strong and masculine.

Maybe that's why it had been so easy to get along with him, eventually, to develop feelings that were stronger. Once he'd separated Tony Stark from Howard Stark it hadn't taken much. When Steve returned to the Stark Tower, now renamed Avengers Tower at the amusement of the other Avengers, Steve spent at least an hour every day with Tony. It was impossible not to.

Living together, eating together, fighting together. Hell, even sleeping together on the couch while watching one of the movies Tony had compiled just to get Steve up to date with modern classics. It was only a matter of time.

Then they'd found themselves here, in the kitchen. Some silly remarks about how bad Tony was at cooking, a joke about Steve being his wife, did Steve say that wouldn't be so bad? He must have, because then Tony was in front of him, a raised eyebrow and a comment of "Oh really?" then he was leaning in and if Steve had just let him...

But no. Steve had panicked, ducked out and jumped away like he'd been burnt. Now here they were, both flustered and confused. Steve was pretty sure he was blushing too. Just to make it a little worse.

"So what?" Shit, Steve hadn't realised he'd been losing himself in thought, now Tony was looking even more annoyed. "You're not going to give me any answers? Not even a clue? Because you don't look at someone like that if there's nothing there Steve."

Suddenly Tony's face softened, and he stepped forward. "Come on... Help me understand. Because if you weren't interested you would have just said so, not be cowering at the other end of the room trying not to look at me." He was getting closer, slowly. "Is it because I'm a man? Because hell Steve you know how much things have changed since your day..."

"It's not." Steve said sharply, before sighing. He had to tell him now. It wasn't fair not to. "It's not because you're a man Tony. You're not the first man I've had... feelings... for." Well, that was one way to confess his attraction for Tony, and he was sure he saw the other man's expression brighten a little.

"Who was the other guy?"

"My best friend. Remember I told you about Bucky once? You were drunk you might not remember..." Steve couldn't help but smile at the memory. Tony had a few drinks and pestered Steve mercilessly for stories of the war, the Howling Commandos, his life before the serum.

"Hey I'm not that bad. Of course I remember." He'd been given lots of exciting stories, then later on he'd been sick in plant pot because he'd tried to out drink Thor. It had been a good night. For the stories rather than the vomit.

"Yeah. I was in love with Bucky. Or I guess it was love. I never got a chance to tell him before he died." Steve leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling with sad eyes that made Tony want to hug him. "I had this little fantasy in my head that he wasn't really gone, and that he was just going to stroll into base camp with a big stupid smile on his face. Then I was going to tell him how I felt and he'd feel the same and that was that. Stupid huh?"

Tony shook his head. "Not at all."

"It was the only thing that kept me going through those last few missions without him. It was even the first thing I thought about when I woke up from the ice, still fresh in my mind... Even now any hope of it ever being real has gone." Steve sighed heavily. "I know it's just a stupid fantasy. I know that. It's just... it's hard to let go of something you kept so close, that got you through so much."

It was impossible to stay mad at Steve for that. The man just looked so sad, like he was about to cry any moment. And Tony couldn't have that. He reached out, just a hand on Steve's arm.

"I get it. I do." Maybe the circumstances were different, but Tony had certainly relied on fantasies before. But now wasn't the time to think about Afghanistan. No way. Not when Steve Rogers had just spilled his guts for him.

"Steve... It's okay." Tony stepped closer, and this time Steve wasn't moving away.

"Tony..." Suddenly Tony found himself pulled towards the other man, so close their noses were almost touching. Tony held his breath, pulse racing like a nervous school boy. That was embarrassing.

"Steve." He tried to sound cool and collected, but his voice came out a little more strained than he'd intended.

"I'm going to stop holding out for a fantasy now. I'm going to focus on what's real." It made his heart hurt. But it was bittersweet, because Steve wasn't on his own any more. He wasn't huddled in an army cot, or hunched over a table in a bombed out bar, in a plane diving towards the sea.

"What's real?" He had people, friends around him, he had Tony.

Steve didn't bother to respond to the question, he figured closing the gap between them would be an adequate enough answer.

Tony was real.


End file.
